


Queens

by epherians



Series: Queens [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon Dialogue, Canonical Character Death, F/F, I Love You Pearl & Evie, Lost Love, Non-Canon Relationship, OTP Feels, One True Pairing, Puns & Word Play, Rare Pairings, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5872771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epherians/pseuds/epherians
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She owns all transportation in London, and has the errant flow of the city’s traffic at her fingertips. But among other things, she also has Miss Frye wrapped around her littlest finger.</p><p>A story of Evie Frye meeting Pearl Attaway, and the diverging consequences that follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pawn

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Tea_Logic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Logic/pseuds/Tea_Logic) for beta reading!
> 
> Acknowledging it now: If this was really canon, Evie would’ve guessed Pearl was a Templar in an instant and shut off any interaction with her. But then we wouldn’t have a story.
> 
> This ship got some momentum on Tumblr thanks to the [Syndicate character swap glitch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnCppF3Kaog) and the resulting [personality swap!AU](http://ficthepainaway.tumblr.com/post/136216411280/agent-gwendolyn-dutiful-son) that changes Evie and Jacob’s personalities and story roles. But I still wanted to work with canon for this prompt, because nothing is quite interesting like making canon!Evie lose track of her meticulously prepared plans.

She’s running on her way back to the train when she passes by what seems to be a large bonfire. That makes Evie stop, more than anything, because no one is noticing the lone woman uttering frustration after frustration at the burning omnibus in the corner of the street. _No one_ is concerned, and according to the ignorant glances of the passersby, there is nothing strange to raise concern at.

But Evie notices, and it's the conscience in her nagging that she cannot leave someone in trouble when she is capable of offering help. So she approaches the woman in regal purple and asks, “What has happened here?”

“And how may this help you, if you would plea-” The woman is already answering as she turns around, but stops—surprised at the sight of the young Assassin. “Oh, splendid,” she mutters, “you’re here to murder me.”

Despite responding with a stupefied “What?”, something stays Evie as the woman offers her a coin, looking so resigned and helpless. There’s bits and pieces flickering in her mind as she recalls what Jacob had shared: _Pearl Attaway_ , competitor to Crawford Starrick in the transportation sector, and proprietor of the carriages toting ‘Attaway Transport’ on the streets. Something about her makes Evie want to realize, _Yes, I am_ , and switch out her hidden blade to get the job done—but she doesn’t. Because between the burning omnibus and the dim glow of the firelight, both tell her all she needs to know about this woman, and another proposition is formed.

“Miss Attaway,” Evie addresses. “I’m not here to murder you. I want to _help_ you.”

Miss Attaway blinks. “Then what’s your intent?”

The elder Frye looks readily at the ruined wood pit. “Whoever’s sabotaging your buses,” she gestures, “ _cannot_ be allowed to go unpunished!” Her exclamation of the last part suddenly becomes more forceful. It’s as if Evie remembers _why_ she must overthrow Starrick, the motive to free London from his reach returning and inciting her like a relit flame. “If Mr. Starrick is behind all this, then we have to end it. Let’s put a stop to his doings together.”

Under the blazing light, Miss Attaway’s look of confusion shifts into approval. “Truer words were never spoken!” she beams, her smile positively radiant. “Come with me,” she acknowledges. “We have much to discuss, Miss…”

“Evie Frye,” The younger lady introduces, offering a handshake and smile with warmth. “A pleasure to be of service.”

 

* * *

 

“Who did this treacherous act to you?” Evie asks upon taking the reins of the omnibus. Like it is with most clients requesting help, she drives while they tell stories—and as far as most clientele go, Miss Attaway’s story is an interesting one to hear.

“Malcolm Millner, Starrick’s puppet himself,” the tycoon answers. “You must understand, Miss Frye, I’ve been at the receiving end of Millner’s threats ever since Starrick bought out his company. I fear he won’t settle for sabotage, though, and might seek to end my life instead.”

Evie nods with ready resolve. “We can’t let that be a possibility.”

“It would be quite the tonic to strike back at him and Starrick where it hurts the most!” Miss Attaway exclaims. “Destroy Millner’s buses, and it will destroy Millner’s company…” she proposes with a light laugh. “I hope it goes without saying, there won’t be anything pleasant involved. If I might add…you _do_ look like the killing type.”

The Assassin chuckles. “I doubt I’ve ever received such a compliment!”

But the chatter is interrupted when a group of vehicles run rampant down the road. “That’s one of Millner’s!” Attaway recognizes, seeing a carriage speeding after one of her omnibuses. Millner doesn’t play fair if his thugs are trying to ram the bus and shoot the poor driver. “I _can’t lose_ another bus!” Attaway cries out, and that’s the trigger to make Evie fight back.

 _Two can play at that game!_ she thinks. Evie speeds her own vehicle and smashes into the carriages with a yell of “MOVE IT!” She was always the more cautious driver, but when innocent lives are on the line, all bets are off. Never a stranger to harming Blighters, she grabs her revolver and fires at the attackers. Once the ruckus is dealt with, the carriage horses run off without their drivers while Miss Attaway’s omnibus driver flees to safety. Evie gradually brings the bus to a halt, the surge of adrenaline fading as she calms herself down.

Even in spite of the mess made on the road, the Assassin’s passenger remains unfazed at the rough movement endured from sitting in the back. Miss Attaway keeps pleasant posture, hands folded in her lap, and calmly waits for her next destination.

 

* * *

 

“He thinks he can burn _my_ buses?” The businesswoman asks without a trace of lost temper. They’ve found Millner’s storage yard and watch as the man in question barks orders to place parkesine crates near his competitor’s depot. Looking at Evie, she suggests, “Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“And make him choke on it!” Evie lights up in agreement. “We’ll turn Millner’s parkesine against him… I could pull this off unnoticed—and you won’t be suspected for any of it.”

“Such daunting instinct, Miss Frye,” Miss Attaway commends and steps back. “I shall leave you to it.”

With any luck, there’s a group of Rooks Evie calls on to attack the Blighters guarding the shipments. While most of them run out front to take care of the opposition, the Assassin readily slips in to push the cart of parkesine near Millner’s buses…

…and gets out just in time to see it all go up in flames. Miss Attaway’s marvelous smirk upon seeing the flames is worth the effort of igniting those explosives.

“How’s that for a fine night?” Evie proudly asks.

“I can see Millner’s stock price plummeting already!” The businesswoman gloats. “You have such budding promise, Miss Frye. I’d like to hire you.”

Evie flushes at the compliment. “That’s nice, but-”

“Oh, I have further business plans for us both,” Attaway interrupts while walking to her personal carriage. “We’ll make another appointment, and I shall reveal the next step in our scheme.”

“I don’t actually have-” _Time for that…?_ Evie means to say, but the door is shut and Attaway’s carriage drives off.

 

* * *

 

For her part, Evie forgets the rendezvous until she’s walking again through Southwark. She looks up at the right moment to see a familiar passenger in a carriage, and all at once, she stops. Or at least, her steps on the pavement do. Come to think of it, there _are_ other things she has to get done today—but that could wait, couldn’t it?

In any case, the elder Frye can’t refuse running up to the carriage and knocking on the door, before swiftly taking a seat across one Miss Attaway.

“Miss Frye!” The woman gasps. A brief moment unlike her usual composure, but she returns to it all the same. “I told you we’d make an appointment.”

Evie leans forward. “My schedule was open,” she replies with a trademark Frye’s grin. In moments like these, to be incredibly bold towards someone of higher standing, it’s clear her youth has not escaped her.

Attaway still returns one of those glowing smiles. “You’re fortunate I like you,” she confesses, and Evie has to believe, for a moment, she heard that correctly.

At Attaway’s behest, the Assassin is handed a letter with a key phrase marked for emphasis. “‘Internal combustion engines’?” she reads aloud with question.

“Eight small syllables that mean a great deal of power in the right hands,” Attaway explains. “Millner is receiving them by train today. Deliver them to me, and he will be _furious._ ”

First omnibuses, now trains. Evie likes how Attaway thinks: a systematic plan of attack to cripple her competitors and the Grand Master himself. The gears in her head turn with excitement, with eagerness, to help out her business partner.

“Seems like we could use another train to get to theirs,” Evie suggests, “and I know just the person who can help…!” With her plan struck, she turns to open the carriage door. “Leave it to me, I’ll get those engines delivered to you!”

“Wait.” Attaway stops and holds her by the arm. For a moment, Evie can feel her heart racing as she’s being asked, “So we have a deal, Miss Frye?”

The Assassin smiles, too giddy to do anything about it now. “You’re fortunate I _like_ you, Miss Attaway,” she declares before leaving the carriage with as much spunk as she had barging in.

A plan in motion, a police carriage hijack, and a train robbery that goes off without a hitch. When she meets Attaway again, the mission is a success and the shiny new engines are delivered to the tycoon’s keeping.

“I cannot thank you enough, Miss Frye,” Attaway commends. Her proud look of satisfaction is enough to keep Evie in a wondrous, blissful state of being able to do good for someone.

She responds with a curt nod and smile. “It’s my pleasure to help.”

“I have something to give you, if you would be so kind as to come to my carriage?”

Evie replies without hesitation, “Of course, Miss Attaway.”

“Oh, we’re past formalities now,” the magnate laughs, then holds Evie by the arm, leaning in close to her. “Call me _Pearl_ , darling. It suits you.”

Her voice is a low, ringing hum that sends _flutters_ to the young Frye who hears it.

 

* * *

 

All in all, it’s been another exciting day for Evie Frye.

She’s back on the train sometime later, relaxing alone with tea and thoughts when Jacob drops in, grumbling and complaining about an ache in his neck. He takes one look at his sister and exclaims, “Well, look who’s back!”

The elder Frye shakes her head for a moment, as if she just realized her brother had entered. “I don’t recall seeing you in the same spot when I left,” Jacob mutters as he flops on the bed right across her. “Where were you all day? Practicing your sneaking skills?”

“Actually, I just came back from a- train robbery with Ned…” Evie answers, looking down with slight embarrassment. “And what about you?”

“Oh, I’ve had a wild day!” Jacob responds with the most bubbly, sugar-coated enthusiasm possible. “Been zipping over London, fighting Templars, and solving riddles for your Piece of Eden.”

He emphasizes the last part, causing Evie to set her teacup down. “Excuse me?” she asks, a little more startled than she needs to be. “Jacob, are you making this up?”

“Not in the least, dear sister,” he answers. “Henry’s the one who gave orders, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

Evie looks down with a selfish kind of hurt. “Why would he ask _you_ to go look for the Shroud?” Her question is blunt and disdainful and Jacob knows it.

“Henry was out following leads today, wasn’t he? Well, he came back from investigating and saw you’d been gone all day without any reports… So he decided someone should try and head to the Monument while there was still time. I was forced to go with him.” The revelation is too stunning for his sister to react in words. When she doesn’t fire back with a sharp-witted comment, Jacob feels too inclined to ask, “ _Jealous?_ ”

“What? No, I was busy too!” Evie defends as she turns away. “Something urgent came up!”

“Oh yes, that ‘urgent thing’ you had to go to which I’m hearing so little about,” Jacob smirks, then asks with mock courtesy, “May I ask what you’ve been up to, Miss Evie Frye?”

How she hates Jacob for pestering her like this—and how he clearly doesn’t let up. There’s a thick, hard-to-swallow silence before the elder twin forces out her confession. “I was working with Miss Attaway.” She feels a terrible rush of color fill her cheeks, and wonders how long it will be before Jacob notices.

Turns out he’s noticed already.

“You’re awfully shy about the subject…” Jacob observes. “How’s that working out for you?”

His sister attempts to get up and leave. “Let’s not discuss this anymore,” she dismisses.

“Evie…” The younger Frye stands up and tries to block the way.

“Jacob, I’m serious.” Not once does Evie try to make eye contact.

“What do you keep turning away for?” Jacob trails, both out of stubbornness and flat-out teasing. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“If there is, I’m not interested in answering-!”

“What’s so scandalous about working with Attaway? You’re acting as if you _kissed_ or something-”

“ _Jacob!_ ” Evie interrupts. “It’s not time to talk about that-!” she sputters, inwardly screaming in that moment for her brother to say no more. Flustered and trying to regain control, she challenges, “I want to know what happened after _you_ and Mr. Green went to the Monument!”

“Oh, I’d be happy to indulge you, sister.” Her brother keeps that smug grin on his face for a few seconds, humoring himself before settling to change the subject. “Your clues actually led us to the top of St. Paul’s,” he elucidates, “and I found a key there at the end of a magnificent treasure hunt.”

Evie’s look hardens, the information bringing her back to reality. “The key to the vault holding the Shroud,” she understands. “Do you still have it?”

“Unfortunately, you’re not gonna like this part…” Jacob pauses, thinking for a moment how to steer towards bad news. “Lucy Thorne also came for the key. We fought and she escaped with it.”

His usually rational sister throws her hands up and groans.

“Evie, listen-”

“Thanks a lot, Jacob…”

“It’s not like I didn’t put up a fight!” Her brash brother defends. “It was a tiny room—she threw a smoke bomb and tried to grab the key off my neck!” He explains with a wild gesture of hands. “But then she couldn’t see where she was going, so she nearly fell out the window and took me with her!”

Evie scoffs at the nonsensical story. “Why was the key even around your _neck?_ ”

“Oh, I don’t know, because it was a _necklace?_ Something closer to your taste, I’d imagine,” he snarks.

“If you didn’t have it around your neck, maybe she wouldn’t have tried to kill you!”

“If I didn’t have it around my neck, she could’ve easily snatched it out of my hand!”

“How could you even let her get away!?” Evie’s frustration rises.

“Because I’d be cut by sharp glass if I didn’t!” Jacob raises his voice to match. “Look, I thought a trade-off was in order after you fixed the muck-up in Lambeth,” he explains. “I’m sorry I let Lucy Thorne get away, but I tried to help! And if Henry didn’t think to go today, well—the Templars could’ve already gotten your key without us knowing.”

What he says _stuns_ Evie, if hurling guilt at her own actions can count as stunning. She feels hauled back to reality now, the situation with the Shroud causing her to pool her thoughts instead of owning up to the mess.

Jacob breaks the silence with another follow-up. “I hope what you’re doing with Attaway is worth it.”

Evie thinks for a moment before responding. “We’re putting an end to Starrick’s hold on transportation. Perhaps in a better way than how _you_ would’ve done it.”

The younger Frye shakes his head and gets up to leave. “Look at the copycat getting her own tongue.”

 

* * *

 

“Evie dear, do come join me!”

She’s welcome into Pearl’s carriage by this point, and nothing would convince her otherwise. There’s glass pouring and champagne toasting, then the magnate proceeds to business. “Millner’s fled to the Thames now, to secure the only ferry he has left.”

“Guarding it with his life, I suppose!” Evie exclaims.

“The very thing I want you to take!” Pearl laughs, and then delivers the clincher. “ _Just kill him._ You’re ready to put in the final nail and he knows it.”

Evie recognizes that tone, the one where Pearl underneath smiles and pleasantries is really a relentless, cunning woman who seeks control over what she has when she has it…as she’s understood. She holds onto Pearl’s wrist as she asks in a low voice, “You’ve had more than one glass, haven’t you?”

Pearl leans in and replies with an equally tantalizing fervor, “ _Success_ is more intoxicating than alcohol, my dear.”

Putting it that way, how could one refuse? Evie would do anything for this woman in a heartbeat. “Well if that’s the case,” the Assassin says as she prepares to leave the carriage. “I’ll come back to have a glass with you.”

 

* * *

 

She throws everything into locating her target for this final job. Subtlety is nonexistent when freerunning across the River Thames, and in some cases, subtlety is not an option at all. Drawing out Millner requires a loud show of expression—something like an explosion will do.

Sabotage is fitting, poetic perhaps, upon whoever thought it best to get in Pearl’s way. Destroying a boat filled with contraband is not a difficult task, and neither is waiting for Millner to run out furious and fumed—that’s his own downfall. Upon seeing the hooded Assassin leap out, Millner runs away, and Evie is forced to pursue. But a fast assassination is better than none, and she finishes the Templar with a tackle to the ground and a stab to the neck.

Millner pleads and panics. “I-I knew this would be the day—Mr. Starrick was furious I lost the engines-! So this is my comeuppance…”

“Pearl Attaway sent me to you, not Starrick,” Evie clarifies.

“ _Then they’re working together again, aren’t they?_ ” Millner rasps, and Evie feels her heart stop, her eyes widen. “They knew I wasn’t useful anymore. I was done for…” A heavy feeling of dread sets on the Assassin’s thoughts, like a realization come too late. “I should’ve never come between Mr. Starrick and Ms. Attaway… Family always stay together in the end.”

She lurches forward—“What do you mean, they’re family?!”—but Millner already breathes his last.

 

* * *

 

Evie runs to get away from the swarm of Blighters, but only one thought remains rampant in her fear: _Where are you, Pearl?_ By Eagle Vision does the Assassin locate the woman—entering a warehouse while following someone. Evie enters through the window and trails until she is in prime position to eavesdrop, but she’s not prepared for the conversation spoken next.

Not for how Pearl calls “Crawford” her _cousin_.

Not for how Starrick knows about “the Assassin Miss Thorne spoke of.”

And very certainly, not for how Pearl knew Evie was an Assassin all along and still convinced her to help the Templar cause.

Her breath hitches as she stays against the wall, unable to move or make a sound. There’s a feeling sick like bile growing in Evie’s throat and wanting to come out as a scream, but she has to choke it. “I’ve been twisting her arm because of how endearing she was toward me,” Pearl gloats, and the fear plasters Evie where she stands, forced to listen and be silent.

She hears Starrick announcing their next plan: securing the engines so they are delivered to his factory. The engines _Evie_ made an effort to acquire, allowing the Templar Grand Master to gain an upper hand.

“I want you at Waterloo, personally,” he speaks, “to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“Of course. May the Father of Understanding guide us,” Pearl declares.

“Today and in all future endeavors, cousin.” From the opening in the wall, Evie watches them leave, and never once gives away that she was there.

 _Waterloo Station_ , she affirms in her head, but she can’t find the heart to say those words and believe they are true.

 

* * *

 

By the time she gets to Waterloo, she finds she’s not alone. Jacob is already there, courtesy of the Rooks waiting outside who inform her of their orders. She grapples her rope launcher upward and finds Jacob perched on the rafters, surveying the platform below.

“Heard what happened,” her brother fills in. “Attaway is our true target, hm?” As he says this, he shakes his head. “A harsh oversight, sister. I thought you had it sorted.”

“It’s a mistake I am going to correct!” Evie responds, before taking one look at Jacob and darting away just as quickly. “Or, _we_ will correct. We might as well fix this together…”

Jacob gives a wave of hand. “I’ll follow your orders then.”

Evie scrambles to think of a plan instead of her embarrassment. “I will deal with Attaway. Where is she? We need to reclaim the engines before they fall into Starrick’s possession.”

“Already getting the lads to take care of that,” Jacob affirms, “but of course, we’d have to wait for you to make your move.” He points out one of the trains on track, identifying a carriage that looks bulkier than the rest. “Your target is most likely in there. Take her out, and we can escape with the engines before the Templars cause a scene.”

Evie hesitates.

“I could also make the kill, if it’s gonna be difficult for you to-”

“Jacob, this is my score to settle, not yours,” she interrupts.

“As you wish.” The younger Frye nods, before surveying the station once more. “Those crowds seem to be blocked from getting in, no doubt because of the Templars. I could find a way to let them in, and that should buy you enough time to get inside that train.”

Evie agrees, and makes to descend back down. “Don’t do anything foolish while you’re here!” she instructs.

 

* * *

 

She could always wait until Jacob’s let the crowd inside, but Evie prefers a different path for stealth’s sake—as much as can be achieved in a public train station. Her answer is an underground passage, one that conveniently opens up a manhole right in the middle of Central Station. From there, the track is all laid out: hearing a pair of Templars loudly discuss “blueprints” and “flaws”, Evie is prompted to pick at what the chief of security has pocketed. The blueprint of Attaway’s carriage highlights a vulnerability in the glass roof—a perfect spot for an air assassination.

There’s only one chance to complete the job before she’s undoubtedly spotted. Evie climbs onto the roof of the train and watches—before smashing the glass and plunging her blade through Pearl’s throat.

The tycoon is rightly pinned to the ground as she recoils in pain and chokes on her blood. “ _What a pity…_ ” Pearl muses. “ _Good partnerships are hard to come by._ ” Calm and unfearing in the face of death.

Evie grabs her bleeding victim and voices frustration. “ _Ours has most_ certainly _dissolved!_ ” she declares, unable to hide the hurt breaking in her voice.

“ _It’s_ business, _Miss Frye,_ ” Pearl answers with no remorse. “ _One must do what it takes to come out on top… Crawford, and Lucy,_ ” she names, “ _they will not take the news of my death lightly. They can be…_ unpleasant _when cross…_ ” She smirks, then seizes in terror, her time running out. “ _ **I have sacrificed so much!** I don’t want to lose my buses…_ ”

Pearl Attaway declares her dying breath, before her hand falls limp and her eyes become lifeless. Her whole body stills, and a thick silence overwhelms the void it leaves behind.

Her blood is still _**warm**_ as Evie claims it for the handkerchief. The Assassin runs out with her heart hammering and head spinning, even as she pulls the crank to start driving the train away.

 

* * *

 

The train is sent to Charing Cross for the Rooks to retrieve the engines. Evie and Jacob transfer back to the train hideout, and as they ride out of Southwark, it’s her brother who passes her by on the roof with an obvious intent for a message.

“What was it that Father used to say?” he asks in a low voice only they can hear. “Don’t allow personal feelings to compromise the mission?”

Evie has to force the answer out. “ _Precisely._ ”

When they get to the assassination wall, Jacob lets her do the honors. Pearl’s portrait hangs front and center, and as Evie paints the red strikes, she wonders if this wasn’t all just some terrible mistake. She retires to her compartment and bolts the door shut, remaining there for the rest of the day. Jacob doesn’t visit her, and nothing is spoken about it. There is nothing more to tell.

The mission must go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was supposed to stay a oneshot. But in the process of writing some endings, I accidentally derailed the rest of the plot of Syndicate, so a second part was born.


	2. Promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Pearl Attaway's assassination, Evie grieves, while also picking up the pieces to protect London from Crawford Starrick. Can she make it to the eighth square and the endgame?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final count: 831 days. It took 831 days to finish this piece I started two years ago.
> 
> This took two years to update due to a combination of: school, writer’s block, insecurity, other interests, and more importantly, learning how to enjoy my ship when I had previously no experience writing them when I started this piece.

##  _“Pearl would not want justice. Pearl would want vengeance!”_

* * *

 

At the very least, Evie makes for Southwark to tie up loose ends from Attaway’s assassination. It does not come without consequences.

With the collapse of London’s leading transport companies, the reins of travel fall into Blighters’ hands. Among the mess of gang members running rampant on the streets, Evie manages to assist Ed Bayley in forming his unified transport company. All he needs is the Attaway Transport deed.

The heist is easier said than done. Evie tries to steal the document unseen, but her cover is blown by the eyes and ears in a Blighter-patrolled factory. The ensuing swarm of thugs forces the Assassin to fight them off, and although it’s not unusual to be a one-woman army, Evie is livid and ragged by the time she reaches Bayley with the deed in hand.

“I’ve sent Roth’s men a message,” she says with a little too much force. “You and your family will be safe.”

A general omnibus company has been founded, assuring the sector of transportation will run again on better wheels. ( _It's what she would’ve wanted, probably. Had she only been alive to see it still._ )

 

* * *

 

The Blighters grow restless, and the mending of order in Southwark has done nothing to curb it.

Everywhere Evie goes, it feels like they know why they’re watching her, why they scowl and sneer with more than just gangly intimidation. (“What’s SHE doing here?”) (“Is the missy coming back for more?”) It feels like her mistake is a public scandal to be shamed, and despite the Rooks’ authority over Southwark now, nothing will stop the Blighters from exploiting the lack of establishment and running with it.

After that, something inside her breaks, changes. Evie resolves to focus not on the Templars, but her original mission: the Shroud of Eden.

She plunges head forth into her work, searching through papers and books and the clues from the journal that led to the key Jacob described to her. But of course, just as he failed to help her procure the Templar chest, he also had to lose the key to Miss Thorne. It's better, she decides, that the work on the Shroud is left solely up to her, and her brother can go back to playing cat and mouse with the Templars.

 

* * *

 

“Miss Frye?”

Evie is startled by the voice entering her train carriage. “Oh… Mr. Green.”

“How have you been? You seem exhausted.”

“I’ve just…not been getting enough sleep, is all.”

“You should rest while you can. I know you must be vigilant, but you can’t get anywhere if your health is not in top form.”

She hasn’t told Mr. Green about her involvement in Attaway’s assassination, let alone the more personal encounters that transpired before that. It is not right to admit to him her mistake in forgetting the mission.

 

* * *

 

_Did she ever tell Pearl she loved her?_

The thing is, Evie can’t stop thinking of her. About who she was, what they had, and what could have been.

There is an idyllic sense of belief and disbelief at the words, “ _Pearl Attaway is no more._ ” It’s only been a few days since Waterloo and Evie has thoroughly convinced herself that it will not affect her. Just as she had to steel herself past Father’s passing, and all the other lives she’d taken, an Assassin should be accustomed to this line of work. She was trained to embrace this way of life, and so far, it did not punish her.

(She tells herself that as she receives the news— **BUS FEUD ENDS IN BLOOD!** —and sensationalist “eyewitness reports” of the crime scene, which will have to be investigated by Abberline if he is to quell the rumors and the general populace. Evie cannot read those papers; the way her death was reported when they found her body and the consequences had for her employees in the mere days after. Every time Pearl is mentioned, memories rush back and she is helpless in resisting, remembering, regretting…)

—At least that’s what she thinks. All of it is only in her mind, so she wills herself to believe she can get over this, she has to.

In all honesty, Evie knows what she doesn’t want to feel—but she has no clue _what_ to feel in place of it.

 

* * *

 

The only one giving her peace of mind is Mr. Green. He's a patient arm on her shoulder, an ear who will listen. She hasn't told him yet about the truth behind Attaway's assassination, and it's better he doesn't know her mistake. (Still, Mr. Green can tell there's something more to what Evie is hiding.)

When asked about Jacob's plan to go after the next Templar target, Evie simply replies, “I shouldn't have to help him.”

One day, Mr. Green asks for her help in putting together a herbarium. Gather samples of flowers all over London. Every flower has a story, a statement of meaning, and Evie takes each one to heart as she and Mr. Green learn together.

(And over time, it helps, helps, helps her overcome her grief. Amidst the rising troubles brewing in the city, Evie thinks of these flowers and their messages, and perhaps there is still some good left in this world after all.)

 

* * *

 

She searches the books rampantly, for anything that could tell her about this key she does not have. It’s then they find a sketch of a royal crest—implying the Shroud might be kept in the Tower of London. With any luck, Lucy Thorne might be waiting for her there too, and unsurprisingly, she is.

“Good evening, Miss Frye.”

“Miss Thorne. Quite the welcome you’ve given me.”

Lucy’s ire was never subtle. “Because of you, Pearl is never coming back.”

That alone makes Evie incensed. “I did what I had to!”

A fight breaks out because the mere sight of Pearl’s murderer fills the Templar with rage.

“It is always the same with you Assassins!” Lucy shouts, slashing away with her dagger in hand. “Thinking you can fix problems without ever seeing the consequences!”

It’s a fast race to counter all of Lucy’s strikes, for a single hit would leave her open. Lucy’s fury becomes her undoing, for Evie gains the upper hand to drive a cane-sword into her back.

The Templar is pinned to the ground and subdued. “I hope you never find the Shroud,” she sneers. “An ungrateful, selfish brat like you doesn’t deserve its power!”

Evie grabs her and demands, “Tell me where it is!”

“ _No._ ” Lucy has all but spat on her face. She passes, without any Shroud to strangle her.

Evie remembers to take the key Jacob spoke of. It is a necklace after all, exactly as he described it.

 

* * *

 

_It soon came to a point where Evie had something important to say to Pearl, but was nervous to say it. Just bringing pen to paper made her hand shake and heart ache, as she thought it was a truth no one should ever know._

_When she came across the perfect idea, it became a perfect gift. On the day she and Pearl were to next meet, Evie presented her with lilacs._

_Pearl accepted the flowers and smiled. “First emotions of love,” she answered, and Evie looked up in alarm._

_“You knew?”_

_“I enjoy gardening and botany. Many a suitor gave me flowers in such a way, and I was curious to know what their language meant.”_

_Evie felt a horrible sinking as she looked down. “…Oh.”_

_Pearl smirked. “You thought you were the first?”_

_“No, I just- I just thought…” The young Assassin stumbled to find truthful words. “Are you married, Miss Attaway…?”_

_“Dear me, of course not!” Pearl leaned her head back and laughed (both for the girl and her nervousness that she could overlook the obvious detail of being a Miss). “I turned my suitors down. Not that I fear I shall never marry, but I like my name too much to give it away for someone else’s.”_

_She looked back at Evie, who smiled as she stammered in relief, “That- that’s quite reasonable. Understandable, I mean! Umm, it’s getting late. I should be going…”_

_“Will I see you again?” Pearl asked._

_Evie was silent for a long time, at least in her head. “…Maybe?” She ran away out of sheer embarrassment._

 

* * *

 

Jacob assassinates Philip Twopenny next. The Bank of England sinks into chaos but the brash leader of the Rooks is already off looking to defend the Prime Minister. Evie has to help Mr. Abberline sort it out, because this isn't just Jacob's mess, it's _theirs_. It's the price they pay for taking on Starrick, and they need to put a stop to him soon.

The day is perhaps saved after, when Henry has some exciting news to tell. They have a chance to find the blueprints before the Templars, and the Shroud’s location will finally be known to them. But because the situation is much more delicate than conquering a gang stronghold, Evie prefers a more secretive approach.

“We're going to need a plan.” Surveying the house from afar, she and Henry discuss their options. He offers to create a diversion to get her inside.

“You would do that?”

“For you, Evie, certainly.”

She’s already saying the words before she can stop herself. “Be careful.”

In a matter of moments it all goes wrong. No sooner has Evie entered the house when the thug she interrogates tells her her friend has been kidnapped.

They've taken Henry. But the plans!

The mission!

—She finds herself going back. Backwards from everything she tried to move away from.

She takes her frustration out on Henry and his capture, but deep down Evie knows the only one at fault is herself.

Everything is going wrong, wrong, wrong. Jacob is causing citywide chaos, Henry is risking his life for her safety, and now she's lost their chance at finding the plans to the vault. Furthermore, she even had to play the role of unsung hero in returning the stolen printing plates to the Bank of England. It's little wonder how they still manage to have the Rooks on their side, or even anyone offering the Assassins their assistance. With all the damage they’re doing, they don’t deserve it.

As soon as Henry returns, Evie finds a flower left on her desk. A purple hyacinth— _I am sorry, please forgive me._

(The memories are indeed stronger than she believes them to be.)

 

* * *

 

_She was caught unawares when she passed by an inconspicuous carriage and her hand was caught by the person who opened the door. The hand was soft and gentle, so Evie was terrified that she knew whose it was._

_Once upon a time, she waltzed into Pearl’s carriage on a whim, now the roles were reversed. It was incredibly difficult to look at the face of someone you (loved), but Pearl was patient, and leaned in to give Evie a kiss._

_It was all things strange and reeling. Evie had no idea what a kiss felt like, that as soon as she felt their lips press, she pulled back—eyes wide, mind blown, and heavily breathing. Pearl held her hands and stayed her gaze with focus and understanding._

_She spoke softly. “I know you enjoyed the kiss too. Don’t be terrified.”_

_Pearl moved in again and Evie did not resist anymore._

_Of course, it doesn't have to stop there, and it really doesn’t. It doesn’t stop when Pearl invites Evie back to her carriage, and it really doesn't stop when Pearl kisses her—effectively stunning the young Assassin as the shock of the gesture blows out every current thought she was thinking._

_…It was a “charged” kiss, to say the least. And after a few short-circuited seconds, Evie returns it._

_And then it all stops._

_“I must let you go now.”_

_Her eyes shoot open, ache and denial pleading to not be left so unfinished. But as quickly as it happens, Evie is left standing again on the street corner, almost as if it never truly happened._

_(There are many more kisses to follow after that, which is good because Evie wants to keep kissing, wants to feel Pearl's lips on her own again. She's incredibly drunk on the taste it gives her, and every time Pearl pulls her closer, she gives in and answers, every time.)_

 

* * *

 

Evie cannot assuage her guilt of failing to find the Shroud, of putting Henry in danger. She convinces herself all this has gone wrong because she murdered her lover.

So much so, that when Jacob gets a letter from the leader of the Blighters, Evie panics just from her brother’s mere show of interest.

“You’re not going,” she finds herself saying.

“I don’t think you can tell me what I can’t do anymore.”

“You’re NOT going!” She repeats, suddenly shouting. “Jacob, you cannot accept that invitation!”

“What if I want to see him, Evie? Like the same way you wanted to meet Attaway? Do you even remember what that feels like?”

“ _I do!_ ” Evie blurts, fragments of her heart spilling. “Of course I do know what it is… but it will hurt you, and you will wish it never happened.”

“Then you know what it means…” Jacob realizes, “to fall. Knowing you will be hurt, but it’s all worth it in that moment.”

“The hurt is not worth it, Jacob. Stop yourself while you still can.”

“You would do the same thing if you could do it over, wouldn’t you?”

Evie suddenly steps back. No, what… what would she have done? She should have walked away.

While she mulls over the hurt question, Jacob takes his cue to exit.

 

* * *

 

“I know you’ve been anxious ever since your brother got that letter.” It’s the first thing Henry breaks Evie’s worried, agitated silence with.

“He’s putting himself in danger!” she retorts.

“Trust. Your. Brother.” Henry assures. “He won’t stop until the leader of the Blighters is dealt with, and he will get out of it alive.”

“He’d _better_ ,” Evie grits.

“Believe me, after seven boroughs and seven leading Templars… it’s a wonder the three of us have survived it all.”

The subject (inevitably) shifting to Henry’s state of being, Evie is left to ask, “How are you doing?”

For his part, Henry remains optimistic. “It’s just a head wound, really. Nothing rest can't put back to normal.”

“Still…I am worried about you.”

“I ruined the mission, got kidnapped in the process, and set us back a few steps. I should be frustrating you—what makes you so worried about me?”

“Because,” Evie sighs. “I don't want to lose the people I love. I already lost someone very important to me.”

“Your father.” Henry recognizes.

“Someone else,” Evie interrupts. “Her name was Pearl Attaway.”

“The Templar? Wasn't she your target?”

Evie nods. “Yes, but…I didn’t know that when I first met her…”

She tells him everything. About their partnership and the affair that followed, and the notion that Pearl _loved_ her, and she loved Pearl in return. “I’ve messed it all up,” is what she resigns to summing it as, “and I just want to set things right again.”

If Henry had noticed anything…odd about that story, he didn’t mention it. “ _Everything_ is permitted,” he says. “It’s how we learn a little bit more about ourselves, in the hopes we become better people for it.”

“I hope you’re right, Henry,” Evie muses. “I really do.”

 

* * *

 

She warns Jacob not to go the instant she hears Maxwell Roth's name. He doesn't listen, of course, and before long, a few days later, he's come back with a dead crow, anger and hurt in his eyes, and the endless smell of soot and smoke.

He hesitates before the wall, Roth's picture already pinned up, but he's reluctant to paint the customary red strikes signifying his demise. ( _Like when she had to declare to the wall that Pearl was also no more._ How Jacob had watched her, unmoving and unresponsive, with all the same delivered on his end. She remembered how he quoted Father's words and scoffed to herself—like her brother would've known how to react if he were in her place.) But the Jacob who suddenly streaks the penultimate portrait is different, changed and shaken somehow (and Evie won't know why).

A part of her can't seem to recognize her twin brother anymore, not after everything that came between them since they got to London. They've made a right mess of things, both of them, and for once, it's something to agree on.

“The job is done, sister,” Jacob says softly, almost partly to himself. “Only one more to go.”

 

* * *

 

_“Your brother sounds like a most delightful person!”_

_“Yes, I suppose he’s like that,” Evie chuckles, shaking her head. “Jacob’s been good at getting what he wants, whatever it takes. He would’ve done a fine job charming and winning you over, probably more than I can.”_

_Pearl smiles. “You charmed me better.”_

_She loved this thing about them: a secret, running around, hiding behind corners, and giggling like they won't get caught. She felt a sense of enjoyment around Pearl, one that hadn't been felt in a long time. Her brother aside, Evie hadn't many people she could be close with—Pearl could be the first. The older woman understood her in an intimate way that she hadn’t experienced, and it was truly the loss of a most valuable relationship that she needed most._

_Evie would wonder, in that sad space of hers that did, if things could’ve gone right after assassinating Millner. She wouldn’t have known Pearl’s true relation and she would’ve run back to her to celebrate a well-earned victory. Surely Pearl would never intend to betray her to Starrick? Was Pearl only pretending to befriend her, and their love wasn’t real?_

_Why did it have to be Pearl who had to die? All of that was taken away from her and there was no getting it back._

 

* * *

 

Now Starrick is planning to take the Piece of Eden at Buckingham Palace, and the twins are nowhere near ready to even stop him. An opportunity is presented in the form of sneaking into the Queen’s gala, which of course means more deception and trickery. They haven’t much time either, as they must leave for the palace that very evening.

“I hate what this has made us become,” Evie admits, in the middle of securing plans to get into the party unnoticed.

Jacob joins her on the settee. “So when Father said, ‘Don’t allow personal feelings to compromise the mission…’”

“We did a good job of following that,” Evie answers in amused irony.

“So what if we’ve made a right mess of things?” Jacob says. “We’re going to fix them, aren’t we? And the Assassins will be better off for it.”

Only the Grand Master is left. The ordeal is almost over. "Once more, for old times’ sake," Jacob assures as he holds his sister’s hand.

Evie nods and squeezes his hand in turn. "And then we're finished."

 

* * *

 

Evie finds herself ruminating about her father’s teachings to Duleep Singh. “One mustn’t allow personal feelings to compromise one’s mission,” she tells him, recited proudly and perfectly like the studious daughter of Ethan Frye. But the Maharajah tells her a different story, one about Ethan and Cecily and the partnership she never got to see.

“From what I was told, your father and mother were very much in love. That love was their strength, and they were the only duo who came close to challenging Starrick’s reign.”

“Father never spoke of her,” Evie recalls. “He forbade us from relationships, to concentrate entirely on our work and never become vulnerable.”

“Perhaps he wanted to fix his own mistake and prevent you from going the same path,” Duleep responds. “From what I understand, Miss Frye, your father was extraordinarily sad, broken even, after your mother’s passing. Those of us with the largest hearts protect them the most. That kind of pain can blind us, and cause us to say outlandish things to protect the ones we love.”

It’s a wide thought for Evie to consider. She would always be grateful for Father’s teachings, but perhaps…he didn’t always know everything about everything.

 

* * *

 

Evie doesn’t look at Crawford Starrick when they dance. The air is colder, more dissonant even in the warmth of the gardens and the strings playing tune to the mazurka. The Grand Master himself is already dead inside, his eyes lifeless, his voice hollow in his speech.

“Time is a wonderful thing, Miss Frye,” Starrick speaks, nonchalant. “It heals all wounds. We may make mistakes while dancing, but, the mazurka ends and we begin again…” _He reminds her of her._ “The problem is, everyone forgets. They trip on the same mistakes over and over.”

“People can learn,” she replies in the face of her adversary.

“ _Can_ they?” Starrick challenges. “After all the chaos I’ve seen in my city—from your doing, nonetheless—it doesn’t seem apt to think you will learn anytime soon.”

“Mr. Starrick, I’ve had enough-” Evie tries to leave but he cuts in again.

“Wouldn’t it be better if one person could know the dance? Could know the time? Then he would change things for the better.”

“I said, enough!”

All of a sudden, Starrick holds her _so close to him_ that everything feels sick with fear. “This dance is nearly over, Miss Frye,” he whispers sharply. “Soon the people on this terrace will see the destruction your generation has wrought upon them. When the music stops, your time ends, and mine begins.”

No sooner after he says this, they're underneath the vault fighting a one-sided battle. Starrick's grip on her is furious, but it's only after she's hurled to the ground that she sees what is most important to her being strangled away. And between Evie and Jacob, Starrick does not seek to kill one twin more than the other—he will slowly end both of them, and anyone else who dares stop him from claiming _his_ city.

Henry intervenes—right in the nick of time! Any knives and blades have nothing on the Shroud, but it distracts Starrick just enough for the twins to disarm him and finish this fight once and for all.

The Grand Master is taken down in tandem only the twins can perform, and it is then Evie knows one thing is certain.

_Family always stay together in the end._

 

* * *

 

When Henry proposes marriage to her, she accepts. She is thankful to him for saving the mission and their lives—especially hers—that there is no room for doubt anymore. Her heart is free, and soon she will embrace new sights and wonders in the time to come. The future is brighter and clearer, but still with so much more to accomplish.

Some time later, Evie visits the cemetery with an array of flowers in hand, placing them at the grave of her first love.

Love-in-a-mist, alternately known as devil-in-a-bush. _You puzzle me._

Lily. _Majesty._

Sweet pea. _Departure._

And finally, the ironically named—pearly everlasting. _Always remembered. I think of thee._

“For the late Pearl Attaway,” she says once before rising to leave. “I shall never forget you, and will always think of you fondly.”

Evie Frye is able to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final count: 831 days.
> 
> Come find me in the Pearl/Evie tag where I'd love to be writing more!


End file.
